Three simple words. Three impossible words.

I. Need. Help.

I calculated this pregnancy incorrectly. I was sure I’d be
early, so now I look back and I think–I started asking Peter for help too
early. He’s exhausted, what with six weeks straight of getting up with both
kids in the night (Penny almost always needs to go to the potty, and William
almost always needs his pull up changed, and that’s on a good night) and
generally allowing me to sleep longer in the morning. And yet, since I’m only
getting bigger and slower and more tired, I need his help all the more. But he
doesn’t have much left to give.

And there’s an ice storm on its way.

So I lay in bed last night thinking about what to do. Do I
ask him to skip class and stay home with the kids? Do I try to find a
babysitter (tough because of driving conditions and also because our kids don’t
like having a babysitter when they know I’m in the house too)? I settled on
another option–just figure it out on your own. My inner monologue went
something like, “Sure, you’re over 40 weeks pregnant. But you can handle a day
or two alone with the kids. People do it all the time. Don’t be such a wimp.”
And yet the thought also had me on the verge of tears.

It dawned on me. I. Need. Help.

I talk/write about it all the time–the gift it is to
recognize our own neediness and vulnerability, the blessing of relying on other
people, of giving and receiving. And yet I balk at it when I’m the one on the
needy end, when I’m the one who feels weak, when I’m the one who just can’t do
it.

But I recognized my need, finally, and I took the easy way out. I called my mother. She’s coming, whether or not baby #3 arrives. She’ll take care of me, and she’ll take care of our children.

I also got a call from my grandmother, who lives next door. My grandmother is 84. She has her own set of needs. She lives in constant pain. She walks with a cane. She has trouble lifting her arms, and simple activities like making the bed or putting on a sweater take tremendous effort. And yet she was calling to offer her help. Because as it happens, her two great-grandchildren (Penny especially) love her company. Penny can spend hours one-on-one with her May May. They tell jokes. They read stories. They play games. And it is a tremendous gift to me.

So once again I am trying to live what I have learned. Trying to admit my weaknesses. To ask for help. To receive it with gratitude. And to trust that the one offering help will receive blessing in return.